Dean the Mortal Superhero
by Supernaturalloverja
Summary: When Sam was 12 he realized you can hate yourself. This is that story.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:I do not own these charcters or the show**

**Dean the Mortal** **Superhero**

When Sam was 4 years old he decided that Dean was a superhero. Not the traditional superhero that wore spandex tights and could fly, but the kind of superhero that wore worn out denim jeans with holes in the knees and knew how to boil macaroni. He started out just as a regular hero, because he saved people's lives and defeated the evil things Sam wasn't supposed to know about, but Sam decided that wasn't quite good enough. Dean was a _super_hero because he did more than just save lives from the things that come out in the dark, Dad can do that, but Dean also made it home for Sam's kindergarten graduation. He made dinner every night and watched silly cartoons. He let Sam crawl into his bed when he had a nightmare and hugged him all night long. Dean was a brother, a mother, and a dad all rolled into one wiry 8 year old body. Anybody could be a hero, but only the _super_ special could be _super_heroes. So even with just 4 years under his belt Sam could see that Dean was a superhero, and he never quite stopped believing that.

When Sam was 8 he realized Dean was mortal. Mortal means he could get hurt or even die, Sam didn't like that. Of course he was still a superhero; he was just a mortal superhero, which made it even more impressive. But as impressive as it may be, the way that Sam had to come to this realization wasn't the most pleasant. It involved a werewolf, a Dean, and a mistake. A mistake that would cost Sam his peace of mind, because now Dean wasn't just a super hero, he was a mortal superhero. A mortal superhero that could bleed and get hurt. A mortal superhero that had to be carried into the motel room because he was preoccupied keeping his guts inside his body. A mortal superhero that could leave, even if he didn't want to, and never come back, just like mommy; Sam didn't like that. He liked when Dean was invincible, when he always came home and let Sam curl up next to him because he just wanted to make sure he was still there. Now, Sam realized, Dean might not come home.

When Sam was 10 Dean didn't come home. Not on the day Dad and he were supposed to get back and not the day after. Sam cried for hours, he called every number he remembered, and he sat in front of the window for two days. Finally Dad called him back, told him there had been an accident and Dean was in the hospital. Sam asked what had happened but Dad wouldn't tell him, he said it wasn't something you said over the phone. Sam asked why he hadn't called, Dad said he was sorry and that he was preoccupied with Dean. Sam asked when they would be back, Dad said he had called Bobby to look after Sam. That wasn't an answer. Sam asked if he could come stay with Dean and Dad at the hospital, Dad told him no. Sam was 10 when he realized that it's possible to hate your Dad.

When Sam was 12 he realized you can hate yourself. This is that story.


	2. Chapter 2

Sam Winchester hated Nebraska. It was cold and icy and the kids were mean. Even for pre-teens they were mean. They teased him because he was the new kid and his pants cut off at his ankles. They teased him because his shirts were handed down from his brother and they didn't quite fit right. They teased him because he made A's on all of his assignments, Dean said it was because they jealous, but that doesn't mean it didn't hurt. So, Sam Winchester hated Nebraska, the people were just as cold as its weather.

"Come on Sammy, pick up the pace or we will never make it home." Dean teased slugging his younger brother in the shoulder and making him stagger slightly. A cocky grin slid up the sides of his mouth as he looped an arm around Sam's shoulders and pulled him close in, "What's on your mind Sammy?"

"It's Sam." Sam spat back, shoving off from his brother's chest and moving to the other side of the sidewalk, kicking up a thin layer of snow as he went. Dean nodded, his grin slipping slightly, before he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets and stared forward. He walked slower than he had to so his brother could keep up, but he was sure Sam never noticed that.

"So what's on your mind, Sam?" Adding emphasis on the last word Dean swiveled his head back towards his brother and shook some snowflakes out of his hair.

"I hate Nebraska." He replied bitterly, keeping his head down. His bangs flopped in front of his eyes and a sour frown painted his lips causing him to look like a mistreated pup, but Dean decided it was best not to point that out.

"Any particular reason?" Sam stopped for a moment, mulling the question over in his brain. Of course there was a reason, there were lots of reasons, but Dean wouldn't understand. He would just pity him and try to fix it by threatening to beat someone up, and that wasn't what Sam wanted. So after a moment he shook out his bangs and continued walking. He could see Dean giving him an assessing look in his peripherals, could see the question in his eyes, but he didn't ask, Sam was grateful for that. "Well I think Nebraska is fine."

"No you think Julia Warren is _fine."_ Sam quipped back, letting loose a toothy grin. Dean chuckled beside him and nodded his agreement.

"What else would make this place worthwhile Sammy?" Dean questioned playfully as they neared the motel room and pulled the keys from his jean pocket.

"It's Sam," Almost got lost in the sound of the key unlocking the door, almost. Sam glanced around the motel room as he shrugged off his jacket and toed off his shoes. The pea green wallpaper was peeling along the ceiling and the white trim was more of an aged manila. The small kitchen was clean enough but 2 of the 4 cabinets were stuck and the fridge creaked like the door may fall off its hinges every time you opened it. The carpet was grayed with use and was so stiff under his feet that he refused to go barefoot. Home Sweet Home. Sam grimaced at the thought before throwing himself on the bed furthest from the door and pulling his backpack up beside him. Sam sifted through his bag looking for his homework as he listened to Dean rummage around the kitchen.

"Dean grab me something too!" Sam called, not taking his eyes from the inside of his bag as he snatched out his math triumphantly.

"PB on bread okay?" Dean's voice filtered through the thin half wall that hid his brother from view.

"Yeah that's good." Sam acknowledged absently before pulling a pencil out and settling back with his math book splayed open on the appropriate page. He was on the third problem when Dean waltzed in with a half sandwich on a paper plate and slid the snack across the bedspread. "Where's yours?"

"Decided I wasn't hungry." Dean muttered, falling backwards onto the other bed. After all he couldn't tell Sam he was worried about how much food was left. They had enough macaroni and hot dogs for dinner tonight and tomorrow if he stretched it, and two pieces of bread with barely enough peanut butter to fill two spoonfuls. Forgoing an afterschool snack was a small price to pay for Sam's peace of mind. But Sam was harder to fool these days and he was giving him that calculating 'you're not telling me something' look.

"When is Dad getting back?" Sam's voice conveyed nothing but the suspicious look remained.

"By the weekend."

"It's Monday."

"I know. Why you asking Samantha, don't enjoy my company?" Dean pouted playfully, sticking out his bottom lip and batting his eyelashes.

"Shut up!" Sam yelped indignantly, tossing a throw pillow at Dean's face and slumping back to resume his homework. Dean caught the pillow out of the air and pushed up off the bed. He dug his fingers through his pockets before pulling out his cellphone and clicking down to 'Dad'.

"I've got to make a call." He didn't wait for a reply before slipping out of the motel room and placing the phone beside his ear.

Ring ring ring….

Dean pulled his jacket tighter, trying to block the strongest of the winds and keep the chill at bay.

Ring ring ring….

"This is John." The voice was gruff and weary. It didn't sound like a man pleased to be disturbed and Dean almost wished he hadn't called, but then he thought about the empty food cabinets and his hungry stomach, and didn't feel so bad anymore.

"Hey, Dad. I was just wondering when you think you'll be back?" His voice always seemed younger when he was talking to his father. It quivered slightly, always unsure.

"I should be back tomorrow." Dean couldn't help the breath of relief that passed over his lips at the news.

"So did you get it?"

"Get what?"

"Whatever it was you were hunting."

"Yeah I got it Dean." The prolonged silence on the other end of the phone caused Dean's brows to knit together, but he didn't ask. There was a long suffering sigh before his father's ruff voice resumed, "I'll see you tomorrow Dean."

"Yeah…See you then sir." He had barely gotten the words out when a soft click signified the end of the conversation. He stared at the screen for a moment before shoving the phone back in his jeans pocket and swung back into the room, closing the door behind him to cut off the cold wind. "Dad will be back tomorrow."

"Okay." Sam muttered, not glancing up from his math book.

"I'm going to make dinner."

"Okay." Again he didn't glance up. Dean shucked his jacket and headed for the kitchen, Sam was in one of his moods, this was going to be a long night.

**supernaturalloverja**

"Come on Dean it's time to go." Sam's voice filtered into his sleep riddled brain. Dean grunted slightly, before turning further into his pillow and pressing the side of his face into it. "Dean!"

A cold hand prodded his face and pulled at the comforter, letting cool air under the covers and sending goose flesh over Dean's arms. Dean grumbled trying to yank the blankets back but Sam wouldn't release them and Dean was too far under sleep's influence to put up much of a fight. "What time is it?"

"It's 8 o'clock! Come on Dean, school starts at 8:30!" As Dean slowly waded out of sleep's warm pull his brain finally flickered on. 8 o'clock, which meant his school had stared a half hour ago. Crap. Dean rolled onto his side and sat up, cracking the stiff muscles of his neck before standing up and grabbing a pair of jeans from the top of his duffel.

"Alright Sam, go start the car." He mumbled, tossing his keys in to Sam's chest. While Sam left the room and went to warm up the Impala Dean slipped his boots onto his socked feet and shrugged on his leather jacket. They usually just walked, but he wasn't sure how long that would take in this weather, and he didn't want to risk Sam being late. He allowed himself a moment to rub the sleep from his eyes before leaving the slight warmth of the motel and heading into the parking lot. Sam was already snuggled down in the passenger seat with the heater blasting in his face by the time Dean had taken his seat in the driver's side.

"I am guessing you are not going to school." Sam assessed without looking Dean's way. It wasn't a question, so Dean decided not to answer. They sat in silence for a few minutes. The air heavy and thick inside the warm car as the one brother struggled for conversation and one silently begged they could keep silent.

"So Sammy, I want to know what's bothering you?" Dean questioned without removing his eyes from the rode. Sam looked taken back for a moment, his mouth gaping like a fish at the sudden question before he could process it. So much for the no talking.

"Do we have to talk about this now?" Sam stuttered, his over stressed brain just wanting to hibernate until they rolled in front of the prison they called a school.

"Well you wouldn't talk about it yesterday! When is a good time? I just want to know what's going on with you." His voice was on the edge of begging but Dean held it slightly back, refusing to seem that weak.

"I said not now Dean."

"Come on Sammy, tell your big brother about it." Dean teased in a sing song voice, trying to lighten the thick atmosphere of the car.

"Nothing Dean! Nothing that you would understand!" Sam snapped, the last weeks of bullying memories all closing in around him. The car seemed smaller all of sudden, and Dean was to close, asking too many questions he didn't want to think about.

"What do you mean I wouldn't understand?" He was almost hurt at the statement. Since when had he not understood his little brother? Sammy was his business to understand, that was his job, of course he understood. If Sam would just tell him about it.

"You don't get it Dean. You don't understand what it's like. To be the outsider, to be the nerd, to be bullied in every freaking state."

"Who is bullying you?"

"What?"

"I said who is bullying you?"

"You really just don't get it! You can fix this Dean, if you beat up one kid another will come along sooner or later."

"I do get it Sam. I get that you need to stand up for yourself…."

"That's really your answer? Not everything can be fixed with your fists Dean."

"That's not what I …."

"You can't make problems disappear by beating them up! That's the issue with you Dean, you never use your head! You either go in fists swinging or just follow blindly after Dad."

"Now Sam that's not fair…."

"No, what's not fair is that I always get the short end of the stick! I am the one that suffers every time we move because I don't make friends easily like you Dean. I am the one who has to be excluded from this family because you and Dad are always a united from against me! I hate it Dean! I hate moving! I hate feeling alone in my own family! And you don't do anything to stop it so I hate you!"

The look on Dean's face will be forever stained into Sam's brain. The look of heartbreak. The look of abandonment. The look of betrayal. A look that made Sam regret being born because he had caused it. It was a look that spoke volumes of how much Dean loved him and how he had thrown it back in his face. It was the look Dean had on his face when they hit the black ice.


	3. Chapter 3

"Sam!" Dean's voice bellowed over the squeal of the tires, one hand gripping uselessly to the wheel while the other flew out protectively in front of Sam's chest. Sam grabbed hold of his arm, fingers digging deep into the material of his jacket and pressing into the warm flesh beneath. Hands grappling at a life line as the car spun nauseatingly and squealed its protest.

Dean yanked hard with his left arm to try and stop the cars turns but the wheel wouldn't give. They hit the side of a ditch and the Impala tipped precariously on its left wheels before crashing down on its roof. The metal bent inward and the sides concaved as the car rolled two more times before flopping on its roof as a resting place.

Smoke rose from the still running engine and flew upwards, a stark grey against the white winter air. The car's wheels still rotated slightly on their axis's since there was no road to stop them. The entire frame of the car was crumpled, crushed in from all sides. The window frames bent in protest at the heavy weight of the car's bottom and their glass was shattered, dispersed around and inside the car. Inside its two passengers hung upside down, awkwardly held in place by their seat belts.

"Dea…" The voice so soft it could barely be heard by its speaker. The arm that had been slung over his chest was now dangling limply on the ceiling, the wrist and elbow bent to allow the stretched arm to be in such a cramped space. Sam glanced sideways, trying to catch a look at Dean's face, but a sharp pain shot up his neck and stilled his movement. The blood pooling on the driver's side of the roof was the last thing Sam saw before he passed out.

**Supernaturallloverja**

"Sir, sir can you hear me?" A calm feminine voice filtered into the car, startling Sam from his rest. The jolt that went up Sam's body at the noise caused him to whimper slightly, the voice to called out again. "Sir can you hear me?"

"Ye…a" His voice was choked and crackly but discernable.

"Can you tell me your name?" It was a nice voice; Sam kind of wanted to see the owner. Maybe she was pretty, than Dean would probably fl….Dean.

"Dean." Sam muttered softly, trying to pry his eyes open to look for his brother.

"Alright Dean we are going to…." The voice began, but Sam cut her off.

"No, no brother Dean." He murmured, doubling his efforts to pry his eyelids open. Finally a small sliver of light crept through a crack in his eyelids. It burned his retinas and made him aware of the headache thrumming in the back of his skull but he refused to lose his progress. "I Sam."

"Okay Sam we are going to try and get you out of this car. We are going to cut your seatbelt and pull you out, but you need to stay still so we can get you on a backboard. Do you understand?"

"Yes." With that a tan hand with long thin fingers came into his field of vision. She had a pair of scissors looped around her fingers. Then there were arms on him. At least two pair, pushing slightly on his mid-section and ready to catch his dropping body. He heard the snip of sliced fabric and then fell. The drop was slow and small thanks to the arms still wrapped around him, what was unpleasant was being pulled out of the window. They tried to be gentle but Sam couldn't help the whimpers that shot from back of his throat as they maneuvered his battered body. As soon as he was strapped down to the backboard and he had gotten his eyes fully open, Sam was looking around for his brother.

"I need a mask over here! Alright Sam we are going to move you into the ambulance now."

"Where is my brother?" The mask was uncomfortable and garbled his words but the paramedic seemed to understand him since she came into his line of vision.

He could see her face now, she was pretty. She had auburn hair that was cut in a straight line at her shoulders, it had a dent at ear level from her continuously tucking it behind her ear, and she had a petite smile. One that didn't involve too many teeth and was meant for others comfort, not her own. Sam liked it. "They are still trying to get him out of the car."

Sam could hear a saw start in the background and rolled his eyes as far back as they would go, trying to catch a glimpse of the scene. "Is he okay? Is he worse off than me?"

"We won't know for sure until we get him out of the car sweetie." The look Sam gave her must have been heart wrenching because her smile slipped and her eyes welled up a bit on the sides. She took a breath trying to clear her mind before deciding to continue, "We will get him out of that car and do everything we can. Now we need to get you to the hospital."

"Not without my brother."

The paramedic gave him a look before choosing her words carefully. "Is he your big brother?"

"Yes"

"Does he look after you? Protect you?"

"Yes"

"So let him. He would want you to get to the hospital, that way whenever he gets there you are all fixed up and ready to greet him." She waited for a reply but Sam remained indecisive, "If I promise that I will give you news as soon as he gets there, then can we take you to the hospital?"

"Will you let me see him?" Sam asked hopefully.

"As long as there are no medical reasons not too than…yes."

"Okay." The paramedic gave him one of her polite smiles and loaded him into the ambulance. "What's your name?"

"Angie."

"Angie, that's a pretty name. Dean would like you, you're pretty." A slight brush peeked at the edges of her tan cheeks before she busied herself with an I.V.

His eyelids were beginning to droop lower, but Sam didn't want to rest. Every time he closed his eyes all he saw was that look on Dean's face, the raw emotion which seeped from his pores. When he closed his eyes he saw Dean's, green irises wide and confused, wondering what they could have done to warrant Sam's words. "You didn't do anything."

"What did you say hon? Angie piped, twisting her knees in the narrow space of the ambulance.

"Nothing." '_I said I hated my brother.'_ Angie gave a sad nod like she could read his mind before taping the I.V. into his hand.

"Sam we are almost to the hospital I just need you to stay awake for me." She was already starting to fade around the edges, her colors being swallowed by the white of the walls and the brown of the cabinets. "Sam, stay with me, you have a concussion."

"Sorry…" Sam slurred. Then it all went dark….except for Dean's watery eyes staring back at him.


	4. Chapter 4

"I'm so sorry Dean; I didn't mean what I said." He pleaded, leaning heavily on his brother's hospital bed and clinging to his brother's hand. It was icy and lax in his steel grip. "Dean please open your eyes."

He leaned his head down and rested it on their joined hands. He breathed a sigh and sniffed in a breath trying to remain hopeful that his brother would be fine. "Sam…."

It was weak and groaned but it was Dean. Sam's head snapped up to look at Dean's face to see cracked and bleary eyes. "Dean! You're awake!"

"Sam…" Dean grated out; his eyes were already drooping closed.

"Dean I just have to tell you I'm…Dean…Dean!" His voice became panicky as Dean's head lolled to the side, eyes still partially cracked. He wheezed out a grated breathe before the heart monitor blared. One loud, high pitched, drone of noise that reached into Sam's chest and grabbed hold of his still beating heart. "Dean!"

As the loud blare continued multiple nurses and doctors rushed into the bleached room and wrapped around Dean's bed. They ripped open Dean's gown and pulled the crash cart up adjacent to the bed. "Charge 250!"

Dean 's chest jolted upward as the paddles came down on his bare chest and sent electricity coursing through his body. The heart monitor beeped once before the drone continued. "Charge 300!"

Again the paddles slammed down onto his chest, causing his back to arch up into the air. His back looking like it may crack at the awkward angle. Nothing. Still the heart monitor continued to monotone. The straight line on the screen continued to shoot across the screen and slice into Sam's chest. "Time of Death 3:30."

"No! Dean! No you can't just give up!" Sam screamed charging at the bed and grabbing hold of Dean's shoulders. He crawled up onto the twin sized bed and dug his knees into Dean's side, trying to get as close to him as possible. Tears streamed down his face and snot ran from his nose as he wrapped himself around Dean and pressed his face into Dean's torso. He sobbed even harder as the chest refused to budge, refused to breath. "Dean!"

Sam stretched back his neck craning his tear stained face towards Dean's. His green eyes were open and dulled, staring straight at Sam. Sam raised up on his elbows and reached to move his eyes closed, that's when he noticed the look on his face. The broken look. The one that was forever ingrained in Sam's memory. The look Dean wore when Sam broke his heart.

**Supernaturallloverja**

Sam was released from his nightmare quickly. His eyes shot open and his heart pounded as he glanced around the room, trying to confirm that what he just dreamed wasn't real. Sweat was dripping down his forehead, accumulating in his hair and tickling the hairs at the nape of his neck.

"Dean…" He groaned, the raspy voice emanating from his throat hardly recognizable as his. He sucked air deep into his lungs and tried again, "Dean…"

A nurse passing by heard his pitiful attempt at calling and rushed into the room. She busied herself about the machines to his right before turning her attention to him. She had a pixie cut of blond hair and flared from her head and almost fell in her eyes. The smile on her face was plastic and glossed, Sam like Angie better. "Hello Sam I'm glad that you could join us."

"Dean…" The nurse finally took notice to the distress of his throat and slipped a couple of ice chips into his mouth. Sam took them in gratefully and worked the liquid around his throat before trying again, "Dean."

"Is that the young man you were brought in with?" Sam nodded but quickly realized what a stupid idea that was. His head was pounding. "Is he your brother?"

"Yes." He still sounded like he had been chewing glass but at least the word was understandable.

"Your father asked to see you once you woke up, do you think you are up to that?" Well that was off topic. Sam was tempted to decline but his father might know something about Dean so slowly he nodded his head again, despite the raging headache slamming around inside his skull.

The nurse had barely stepped past the threshold when John Winchester had burst into the room. He looked like hell. There were dark smudges under his eyes and lines of worry adding years to his face, his clothes were rumpled and slept in, and a couple days' worth of beard had grown on his face.

"Sam! How you feeling buddy?" John questioned as he crossed the room and came to a standstill at Sam's bedside. He twisted a couple of fingers into Sam's thick hair, careful of the bandage wrapped around his temple, and rubbed gently, almost easing some of the headache.

"My head is pounding." John looked back to the nurse and she moved forward pressing a button by the IV and a warm rush soon flooded Sam's veins.

"Well you got a nasty bump on the head bud. You got a concussion and pinched a couple of nerves in your back. You should heal fine though, you've just got to rest." The way his Dad was smiling made Sam nervous. That was his 'please don't ask me smile', Sam couldn't comply.

"How's Dean?" John's smile faltered and his eyes fell down to Sam's chest, trying not to look him in the face.

"Dean was a little worse off bud." His voice was gentle, Sam wasn't sure if that was for his benefit or for his dad's. "When the car rolled Dean….he uhh…. He got partially caught between the steering wheel and doorframe. His chest….uhhh…his ribcage and sternum….were uhhh….kind of crushed. There was a lot of internal…..um bleeding. His head also got a pretty good hit and …they had to put….uhhh out him in a….a coma."

_Coma_

That's what Sam heard.

_Coma_

That meant Dean might not wake up. That meant the last thing that Sam would have ever said to his brother was I hate you. This was a dream. This had to be another nightmare, it couldn't be real.

_Coma_

Dean was a superhero, he was always supposed to be okay. He was supposed to save the world and be home in time to make Sam half a peanut butter sandwich. He was supposed to take all of Sam's harsh words and know he didn't mean them. He was supposed to be around for the apology.

_Coma_

"He is going to wake up right?"

"Your brother is tough."

"That's not an answer."

"I don't know son." He could hear the tears in his father's voice but he didn't dare to look up, it was hard enough to keep the tears in his own eyes from overflowing.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sam liked this motel. Not because it was especially clean or nice but because it was next to an old park, Sam liked parks. Whenever Dad was home Sam got to play at that park, he would run around for hours, and Dad would sit on a rusted bench and flip through his journal. Sam would slide down the slide and Dean would push him on the swings. He would push him high up in the air, and then he would fly back down to Earth and Dean would be there to catch him. No matter how high he flew up in the sky, even if he swore he was almost touching the clouds, Dean was still waiting and he always caught him. Sam liked that park._

_Sam ran towards the slide, his little legs pumping hard as he raced towards the chipped blue painted contraption. His sneakers crunched down on leaves and mad e a crackly sound but Sam didn't stall to play in the leaves, his eyes were on the prize. His eyes were on the slide._

"_Sammy!" Dean's voice carried over the wind, and Sam reached the base of the slide and began to climb, rushing up the last few rungs on the ladder so he could slide down at least once before he had to go back to the cramped motel room. Dad hadn't been home in a couple days so Sam and Dean hadn't been allowed to leave the room, the walls felt like they were closing in. "Sammy!"_

_Dean had rushed to a halt at the side of the slide, his 8 year old chest heaving in heavy rhythm as he sucked in autumn air. "Sammy, what are you doing? I told you not to leave the room."_

"_Pwease don't be mad Deanie? It was too small in there and I really missed the slide." Sam pleaded, turning big hazel eyes down to his brother and quivering his lower lip. "Pwease Deanie, can I play for just a teeny bit?" _

_Dean pursed his lips in thought, looking much older than his 8 years, before finally nodding his consent. Sam squealed in delight before clambering to the tippy top and sliding all the way back down. He threw his arms up in the wind and beamed a bright 4 year old smile as he sailed to the bottom. He threw his feet out as he reached the bottom, using his momentum to stand up and start racing towards the swings. "Hey Deanie! You push me pwease?"_

_Dean gave a small grin before shuffling over to the swings. He kicked up fallen leaves with his combat boots and left them ruffled in his wake. Sam had already climbed up on to the rubber seat and was clenching tiny fists around the cracked green plastic that was wrapped around the swing's chains. Dean walked around behind him and pulled back the swing before letting Sam fly. _

_Sam yelled in delight as he flew forward and the wind whipped through his hair. He squealed for Dean to go higher and higher, and Dean complied. Sam released one rope and reached out into the sky, stretching to brush the clouds, he was so close. Before he could though his little body began to slip from the little rubber seat. He only had a second to scream before the grass below was coming up to meet him. He never hit the ground though, instead two scrawny arms wrapped around him and he landed on and bony body. _

"_You alright Sammy?" Dean questioned, his words airless and strained. Sam nodded slowly still reeling from the moment. Dean gave a tight lipped smile and stood up, rubbing a hand to his chest before reaching out to pull Sam to his feet. _

_Sam looked up at Dean with wide eyes and in that moment he realized, Dean was a superhero. _

**Supernaturallloverja**

"Can I see Dean now?" Sam asked, his voice on the edge of begging. His dad's head shot up from his designated chair and he furrowed his brow at the request.

His eyes were even more tired than when he arrived, they were sunken in his skull and ringed by what looked like purple bruises. His hair was oily and his skin grimy because he refused to leave even long enough to shower. He alternated his time between sitting beside Sam and sitting beside Dean, that didn't leave much time for daily nuisances like showering or eating. "You'll be out of here tomorrow, you can see him then."

"Okay." His voice was resigned but only for the benefit of his Dad. He understood how hard he must be taking it, the fact that he wasn't there, the fact that both his boys were lying in a hospital and there were no bones to burn and make it better, the fact one might not wake up. "How is he?"

"He's strong Sammy, stronger than anybody I know." John replied, he knew it wasn't an answer but it was true. He didn't know what else to say. He couldn't tell his baby boy that his big brother was hooked up to a respirator. That he couldn't breathe in his own air or flicker his eyelids. His little boy had his chest crushed in and his head scrambled and he hadn't been there. Maybe if he was driving or they had moved on to the next state…..how could he tell Sam all of that? "Sleep son, you'll be next to him before you know it."

Sam nodded, completely unaware of his father's inner monologue, and relaxed back into his pillows. It didn't take long for his exhausted body to give into unconsciousness; it wasn't a peaceful sleep though. Sam dreamed of flying, but this time Dean wasn't there to catch him.


	6. Chapter 6

Beep….beep….beep…beep…

"_I hate you"_

Those were the first words that entered Dean's unconscious mind. He had heard those words before; from Carrie Anderson, his first girlfriend, after he broke up with her, from Linzie Palmer when she found him kissing her twin sister, from Angie Gleason when he told her he was leaving, but not from Sam, never from Sam.

Looking back he knew that he deserved all of their hate. All those girls that he had gone through and not really cared about, but he could live with it. He would rather them be alive to hate him then dead because he got attached. But Sam hating him, he couldn't live with that. He wasn't sure what he had done to deserve those words, those knives stabbing into his back, but there must have been something. Maybe if he had stood up for Sam with their dad more. Maybe if he had let him go on that field trip to the aquarium a couple of weeks ago. Maybe if he hadn't burnt the macaroni last week. Maybe….

Beep….beep….beep…

"_I hate you."_

Those were the only words he heard. He didn't hear Sam beg him to wake up, or his dad begging for his forgiveness, the sound of Sam's confession was still ringing in his ears. He tried to think back past the squeal of tires, past the shattering of glass, but as far as he got was Sam's words. I hate you.

'I'm sorry Sammy….' Dean whimpered, seeing a 12 year old Sam's face morph into a little four year old boy with a candy grin and sticky outstretched hands. 'I love you.'

Beep…beep….

Where was he? It was dark here and quite except for that constant beeping. Dean tried to twist his neck but the muscles were stiff and refused to move. Where was Sam? He wasn't here, Dean was always with Sam. Dean never left Sam alone, he had learned his lesson a long time ago. His job was to take care of Sammy. He had to find Sammy.

'Sam!' Dean screamed in his mind, pulse rushing and chest struggling to gulp in oxygen. 'Sammy!'

"_I hate you."_

That's why Sam wasn't here. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be with Dean.

There was a funny feeling in Dean's chest; it felt a little like ripping. Like the time when he ripped his stitches in a fight against some bullies. He had been protecting Sam during that fight. All of a sudden it was kind of hard to breathe, like when Sam had fallen off that swing and Dean had caught him with his chest. And all of a sudden it wasn't so dark anymore; there was a pinpoint of bright light that reached towards his corneas. Dean felt heavy and numb, unable to move towards the bright light but that was okay, it was moving closer. The pain in his chest increased, squeezing at his organs and restricting their use. What was he supposed to do without Sammy? Who was he without Sammy?

Beep…

"_I hate you."_

A tear trickled from the corner of Dean's eye, as he gazed at a four year old Sam's face. The face of a little boy who worshipped him, who thought he was a hero, a little boy who had grown to hate him. And Dean's heart broke

….

**Supernaturallloverja**

"Dean!" Sam's head shot up at the loud scream of the heart monitor. His bangs were pushed away from his face as a result of having his face pressed upon Dean's arm. He reached forward to brush a trickle of salt water which dripped from the side of Dean's eye. And because Dean was crying tears welled immediately in Sam's eyes and he screamed. He wailed as the doctors rushed around him and pried his hands from Dean's prone body to place him to the side. He bawled as they sent electricity through his brother's body and screeched as it did nothing to stop the heart monitors wail.

Sam slapped at his face and pinched at his arms, begging himself to wake up from this dream. He scrubbed at his forearm until it was bright pink and raw but still he stayed in this nightmare. "Don't do this to me! You aren't allowed to leave! This is just a dream! Wake up! Wake up!"

He charged forward towards the bed, clawing at the nurse's arms and trying to reach his big brother. They pressed him back again, trying to get the teenager out of the way. Finally his adrenaline ran out and the wailing stopped. He gave a last hiccup before sinking to his knees. Everything in him just left, left him a crumpled heap on the hospital floor.

One final thought crossed his mind as darkness claimed him.

He broke Dean's heart.


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Sorry it has taken me so long, I have just been super busy, I willl try to be better about updating. Maybe reviews would help remind me? Please review I love to get your feedback. P.S. I do not own this poem!**

**suppernaturalloverja**

Goodnight, my angel

Time to close your eyes

And save these questions for another day

I think I know what you've been asking me

I think you know what I've been trying to say

I promised I would never leave you

And you should always know

Wherever you may go

No matter where you are

I never will be far away

Mary hovered above the crib, blond curls falling around her downturned face as she sang down to her baby, her Dean. He clutched her fingers in a tiny baby fist, chubby little fingers barely encasing two of her long slender ones; she stroked the side of his rosy cheek. The restless baby cooed and quieted at the familiar hum that streamed over him from his mother's lips. The singing pulled him into an easy sleep, a peaceful look crossing over his infant features as his little hand lost its solid grip. Mary didn't pull away yet though, the soft hum of the lullaby still reverberating in her chest. She sang this song to him every night, without fail, watching him lull into a peaceful slumber feeling warm and safe, her baby, her Dean.

Goodnight, my angel

Now it's time to sleep

And still so many things I want to say

Remember all the songs you sang for me

When we went sailing on an emerald bay

And like a boat out on the ocean

I'm rocking you to sleep

The water's dark

And deep inside this ancient heart

You'll always be a part of me

Sam was crying again. His four year old features were screwed up unhappily and his chubby fist was half shoved in his mouth as soft whimpers slipped past his fist. He was curled up on his side, knees drawn to his chest and a pile of blankets tangled around him, but he couldn't sleep. Dean crawled up on the bed, melding his torso to his brothers and setting his chin right over the top of Sammy's head. There he sang, the soft familiar tune his mother had sang to him. The sound pushed up from deep in his chest, nearly off pitch, but it was beautiful and heartfelt as he sang to his Sammy. Sam gave a last sniffle before turning in to his brother's chest, he could fell the song as his brother's vocal chords moved up in his neck and his chest pulled in breath after breath, then he finally drifted in to sleep. Dean didn't let go, not yet, he just continued to sing to his brother, his Sammy.

Goodnight, my angel

Now it's time to dream

And dream how wonderful your life will be

Someday your child may cry

And if you sing this lullabye

Then in your heart

There will always be a part of me

Sam isn't sure why he starts singing that song. He was just resting his head against his brother's too limp hand and all of a sudden his vocal chords began to vibrate. The tune was familiar, he remembered his brother humming it once, and it came easily to him. He wasn't exactly sure who the soothing tune was supposed to comfort, or if his brother could even hear him, but it was familiar, it was safe. As his brother's heart rhythm continued on steadily he continued to hum. He wasn't ready stop yet. So he let his eyelashes fall closed and he hummed himself to sleep, singing to his brother, his Dean, and almost hearing his brother sing along. Almost.

Someday we'll all be gone

But lullabyes go on and on...

They never die

That's how you

And I

Will be

John walked into the hospital room to hear humming. A familiar lullaby that had always been around, first from Mary's lips then from Dean's, and now apparently from Sam. The tune was heartbreaking, not at all a comfort. It reminded him of what he lost, what he was losing. The scare Dean had just caused still lay heavy on his heart, a weight pressing down on his lungs, adding wrinkles to his creased face. They had brought him back, back from the brink of death, but that wasn't permanent. It could happen again. Sam had collapsed from the scare, physically fine but mentally…. Maybe the humming was helping him. It wasn't helping John, at least not at first, but by the time Sam had drifted off the sleep John was beginning to sing along with him. His weary, tear choked voice strangling the pitches but it was still beautiful. John ran a hand over Dean's peaceful features, looking for any sign of movement, looking for a flutter of his eyes, but nothing happened, so he continued to sing. He gripped Sam's arm in a meaty palm and looked down upon his tear stained face, he continued to sing, to his boys, to his Sam and Dean. It didn't fix anything, but he couldn't let go.


	8. Chapter 8

_It was the middle of winter, 12 year olds weren't supposed to be out in the woods in the middle of winter. Sam huffed, blowing his bangs out of his eyes and settling his chin into the crook of his arms, staring out the frosted window. Dean should be at home, with him, he should be poking Sam in the ribs and ranting about the hot chick on t.v. Dean should not be in the middle of nowhere huddled in a salvation army jacket that didn't cover his wrists. Sam huffed again, using his sleeve to clear off some of the condensation that coated the window pane so he could continue to look for the flicker of headlights. _

"_I hate this." Sam groaned, finally standing up from his folded position, wiggling his tingling fingers around to get the circulation back. "You know what fine! They want to leave me all alone, I'm not waiting up, I'm going to bed."_

_Quite content with his little victory Sam crawled up into the unmade hotel bed, curling up his 8 year old body until it was nearly the size of a pillow, and yanked the blankets up passed his nose. His hazel eyes drifted closed, he could almost hear humming._

_Supernaturallloverja_

_The door meeting the wall, that's what startled Sam from his slumber, the crack of the metal doorknob cracking into the plaster with a great force. A low whimper, that's what got Sam out from beneath the covers, his brother's whimper. Sam shot up from his cocoon of blankets, kicking away the enveloping fabric and clambered out bed. A shiver ran through his body as cold air squirmed through his thin pajamas, but the temperature didn't really register. All Sam was paying attention to was his brother. _

_Dean was whimpering softly, eyes rolling around in his skull as he clamped two bloody hands over his gut. Sam couldn't see much past the shredded flannel and blood but from the desperate look on his Dad's face it couldn't be good. _

"_Sam." John's voice startled him from his stupor, Sam jerked, "Get some towels, lots of towels, warm water, and the first aid kit from the trunk."_

_Sam nodded slowly but his feet didn't budge. His bare toes dug deep into the frayed carpet as his brother was laid delicately on the bed. "Sam!"_

_His dad's bark caused him to release his hold on the carpet and take off towards the bathroom. He scooped 3 towels off the shelf and gripped the thin cotton of the towel draped over the door before sprinting back into the room. He dumped the towels and ran back into bathroom, switching on the hot water tap before swiping a bowl off the kitchenette counter. He walked steadily back, careful not to slosh any of the tepid water over the edge. Eyes glued to the bowl he set it on the side table, careful not to glimpse his brother as he ran out to the impala, because if he looked at his brother he wouldn't be able to leave his side. As he came back in with the kit Dean was removing his hands from his midsection and Sam almost retched. He could see his brother's insides. The flesh of Dean's abdomen had been sliced open and his guts were on full view._

"_What happened?" Sam murmured, barely registering the words were out loud._

"_I'll explain later Sam, right now I need your help." Sam nodded vacantly and came to stand by Dean. Dean wasn't crying. He wasn't screaming in agony, he was just lying there, eyes rolling. His skin was cool and clammy under Sam's hand, shock. "Sam dip one of those towels in the water, I need to be able to see what I'm stitching."_

"_Shouldn't you give him something?" His voice was shaky, eyes never tearing from his brother's pale face._

"_No time." Sam nodded, snatching a towel p from the heap and dipping it down into the water before ringing it and handing it to his father .John moved slowly and carefully, wiping the congealed blood from the edges, careful not to agitate the wound. The bleeding had slowed, that was good, right? "Holy water."_

_Sam rooted around the kit for a moment before his fingers brushed the slick metal of the flask, he handed it over. The second the water hit the wound it fizzled, and Dean screamed. A new awareness of the world came into focus in Dean's head as burning agony ate at his torn up insides. The sound was guttural and mixed with a broken sob, it tore at Sam's chest._

"_Try to hold him down!" John cried desperately as jerking motions Dean was making caused the bleeding to take on a new ferocity. Sam pressed his palms as hard as he could on both of his brother's shoulders. Dean jerked harder, bringing his eyes up to Sam._

"_Sam." The voice was ragged and soft, his eyes watery and begging for reprieve. _

"_It's going to be okay Dean, Dad and I are going to take care of you, I'm going to take care of you." Dean nodded slowly, green orbs going distant again as he slumped back against the cheap motel pillows. Sam relaxed his grip but didn't pull back, he would rather stare at the part of his brother that was intact. Dean's face was white and clammy, sweat plastering his dark gold hair to his forehead. His lips were parted, sucking in soft pants of air, eyes open and staring. "Dad, something is wrong."_

_John's head snapped up from his current position by Dean's shredded abdomen and he stood slowly, coming closer to his eldest face. "Dean?"_

_No reaction._

"_Dean, son, can you hear me?"_

_Nothing. Dean just continued to stare._

"_Dean?" His voice was gaining pitch and desperation as he began shaking Dean, his head bobbing up and down. "Son, answer me!"_

"_Dad what's going on?"_

"_Sam call 911."_

"_But Dad…"_

"_Just do it Sam!" John barked, cradling Dean's head in between his hands. "Dean answer me."_

_His voice was different, soft and begging, Sam didn't hesitate to grab the motel phone. "911 what is your emergency?"_

"_My brother, there was accident, his stomach is cut open."_

"_Can you give me your address?"_

"_The Motel 6, on Redding Street."_

"_Alright, I have dispatched an ambulance. Now, what's your name son?"_

"_Sam, and my brother is Dean."_

"_Do you have an adult with you Sam?" _

"_Yes, my dad is here."_

"_Can you ask your Dad if your brother is breathing?"_

_Sam nodded, removing his mouth from the phone receiver, "Dad, is he bre…breathing?"_

_John took a moment to answer, eyes glued down to his little boy, "No."_

_Sam took a moment to process the information, "No he isn't breathing. You have to hurry! Please he's my brother!" _

"_The ambulance is almost there, does your Dad know CPR?"_

_John's rough voice startled him, "If I try CPR he will bleed out."_

"_He said…"_

"_I heard honey." Then there was a bustle of action._

_The paramedics rushed in, rolling a stretcher up beside the motel bed and moving Dad away from the bed. John stepped back numbly as the paramedics hooked a mask over Dean's face and placed a pressure bandage over his weeping wound. As the paramedics wheeled out Sam began to run out behind them. John hooked an arm around his waist and held him back, letting his lanky legs swing. "You have to save him! He's my brother!"_


	9. Chapter 9

**Next Chapter**

"You have to save him. He's my brother." Sam stated calmly to the doctor from his perching position on the end of Dean's bed. Dr. Erikson, that's what the crisp white coat he wore stated his name was, stilled his writing. This was the third doctor to come through today, Sam had said the exact same this to all of them, their answers had all been the same. 'I'll do everything I can.' The man looked up from his clipboard, pen poised and glasses slipped down over the bridge of his nose, he stared at Sam for a moment. Not quite sure what to make of the 12 year old who spent every waking moment at his comatose brother's bedside.

"I'll do everything…."

"that you can. Yeah I know, I've heard it before." Sam spat back, looking down at his swinging feet that were barely scraping the tiled floor below. Dr. Erikson was about to go back to the chart when the boy's voice resumed, "What if that isn't good enough?"

The comment was quite, an airy whisper that barely brushed past his lips, but the doctor heard it clearly. He took a moment to consider it, trying to find the right words. Dr. Erikson had seen his fair share of child patients. Seen their parents and siblings sit by their bedside. Seen them get better and go home or slowly waste away in a hospital bed. Seen parents forced to turn their child's life support off and the aftermath if they chose not to. But no matter how much he saw it never got easier, the look of despair in a young boy's eyes. "Son, I'm going to tell you something you probably haven't heard yet."

"What is that?" He sounded tired, like his hopes had been risen to many times and he just couldn't lift it again. It broke the older man's heart.

"It's about the accident." That got his attention. Sam's head snapped up and his legs went still, full attention on the Doctor. "Your brother woke up in the car."

"What?" Sam stated, straightening up and bringing a protective hand to his brother's ankle. "Why did nobody tell me that?"

"Because the way in which he went unconscious afterword was unpleasant. But I think you need to hear what happened. I think you need to hear what he said." A question was sitting on Sam's lips but Dr. Erikson cut him off, "He was awake upon arrival of paramedics and remained conscious for exactly 1 minute and 27 seconds."

Dr. Erikson looked down at the clipboard searching for the details before continuing, "When asked he would not give his name, didn't say anything about himself, he just talked about the passenger. 'He is allergic to penicillin, don't give him penicillin, and he doesn't like shots. I heard his head hit the dash, he has a concussion, you have to wake him up…'"

Sam took it in for a moment, "What was the unpleasant way in which he passed out?"

Dr. Erikson gave a loud sigh, debating revealing the unpleasant information, but he knew Sam would formulate something of his own if he didn't. "He seized due to the head injury and was unable to bring in enough oxygen due to the excess blood in his lungs."

Sam swallowed hard, nodding his head and squeezing Dean's ankle tightly in his hand, needing to know he was still there. "Thanks for telling me."

This voice was broken; his head drooped and bangs covering up half his face. Dr. Erikson continued, steeping forward and making his voice stronger, "But what I want you to hear is that your brother woke up and talked about you. He woke up for you."

Tears were welling up in Sam's eyes and he averted them in order to blink the tears back. "Do you think he'll do that again?"

"I can't say for certain, but I do know he loves you enough too." With that Dr. Erikson turned on his heels and stalked towards the door almost exiting before remembering one final thing. "He also said, 'It's okay Sammy.' Any idea what he meant?"

Sam shifted at that, twisting his torso completely to his brother, "Yes."

After waiting a moment for elaboration, and getting none, the doctor left. Sam listened to his rubber soled shoes thump all the way down the hallway until he was sure it was just him and Dean. He brought his gangly legs up onto the bed and placed his head in the center of Dean's chest, relishing in the feeling of his heartbeat, careful not to hit any tubing or wires. "Yeah, I know exactly what he meant."


	10. Chapter 10

**Sorry it has taken me so long but I have been unbelievably busy! Thank you to all my loyal followers who have kept with this story. ~ supernaturalloverja**

_They were supposed to be home yesterday. Sam glanced out the window again but knew there would be no impala pulling up outside, no matter how much he wished it would. So he continued to scrub at his single dinner plate. His hands scrubbed until they were pruned and shriveled and the dish water had gone from hot to cold, but he still stood there with hands in the soapy water. He was trying to distract himself with homework, chores, and t.v. but he couldn't get away from that nagging sense of awareness. Aware that they were supposed to be home yesterday._

_They were supposed to be home two days ago. The room was spotless, everything scrubbed within an inch of its life. It helped to keep him distracted, for a while. He came to a standstill beside the second twin bed. The comforter was rumpled at the bottom, so Sam pulled it all the way off. He stripped the bed down to its mattress before remaking it. And for a moment, in the rumple of the sheets, and the motion of tucking the pea green comforter under the mattress, he could focus on something else. Something that didn't make his heart stutter in his chest. But then the bed was made, and he had to think about it again. They were supposed to be home two days ago._

_They were supposed to be home three days ago. Sam was a mess. His finger nails were bitten down into stubs, his hair was mousey from running his fingers through it continuously, and the cell phone his father had left behind was glued in his fist. He had called every number in his head. Numbers that were disconnected, numbers that went straight to voice mail, numbers that belonged to gruff hunters that said they didn't know a thing, none of it helped, and by the last number Sam was crying. Not just a few stray tears but a torrential downpour that drenched his cheeks and caused snot to flow out of his nose. He crawled into bed, phone still clutched, and curled his 10 year old body up as small as it would go before reaching a hand out to Dean' s side of the bed, trying to imagine he was there, but in the back of his mind as he drifted to sleep he knew that he wasn't. They were supposed to be home three days ago._

_It was 2 a.m. when the phone rang. "Hello," his voice was raw, drenched in emotion; relief, worry, pain, joy, loneliness…_

"_Sam." His dad's voice was clipped, all business._

"_Yes." Apprehension flooded Sam, what if something happened, something he didn't want to know. _

"_There was an accident on the hunt," Sam took in a sudden intake of breathe, fresh tears pooling in his eyes, "Dean's in the hospital."_

"_What happened?" That was all Sam could get out, out of the million questions storming his brain that was all he could get out. Where were they? Was he okay? When are you coming home? Are you coming home?_

"_It's not something to talk about over the phone."_

"_But Dad…"_

"_Sam. Not now. I'm sending Bobby to take care of you for a little while, I'll come get you when I can."_

"_I want to come to the hospital with you. I want to see Dean…"_

"_No."_

"_But Dad…"_

"_Sam would you just do as I say for once? This isn't where you need to be, I don't want you to see this."_

"_Fine. How is Dean doing?"_

"_He'll be fine, he's strong. I have to go Sam, text me when Bobby gets to you" He didn't wait for a goodbye to end the call. The moment he wasn't linked in to his father's ear he burst into sobs. He wanted Dean. _

"_I Hate you!" He screamed at the disconnected phone, voice hitched with tears. "I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!"_

_Then he folded in on himself and sunk his face in the pillow, hand placed on Dean's side of the bed, and drifted to sleep. He hated his Dad. They were supposed to be home three days ago._


	11. Chapter 11

**Author Note: Yes I realize that this is a little short but I figured you would prefer getting a shorter chapter then waiting while I stewed over some more. I hope you all enjoy and thank you again for all of my followers and devoted readers, your reviews really do mean a lot to me and I hope I don't disappoint.**

There was something in his throat. It traveled down its length and went all the way into his lungs forcing them up and down. It was irritating and painful, a rigid piece of plastic shoved were it doesn't belong. The sheets were scratchy on his skin, or maybe that was the thick white bandages that swathed all the skin he could feel. He twitched his finger and almost sighed in frustration at the effort it took, almost, there was a tube down his throat. His eyes were restless under his lids but they didn't seem to want to open, like they had been glued shut. That would be a good prank, even better than the Nair in Sam's shampoo….maybe that's why Sam hated him. He would never pull another prank again he vowed silently to himself. Trying to work everything out with his mind restless and drifting in his immobile body. _'If only I could open my eyes'_ He thought, focusing on them fully, but all he achieved was wrinkling his forehead a little. Well that was something at least.

"Dean…" That was Sammy's voice. He didn't sound mad like in the car, he sounded kind of broken. Dean couldn't fix it though, he couldn't do anything more than twitch his finger, maybe that's why Sam hated him.

"I really need you to wake up Dean. Just open your eyes big brother." The chair made a squeaking noise, like Sam had just dropped into it, before scraping across the tile closer to his bed. He could feel Sam's presence close by his side.

'_I want to Sammy, I'm trying.' _

A smaller hand wrapped around his and something hot and wet dripped down on the intertwined fingers. A tear. Sam was crying. Sam was crying because of him, maybe that's why Sam hated him.

"Dean, I just can't see you like this. You're supposed to be invincible, you can't let a piece of ice take you out." He almost got Sam killed because of that piece of ice. He was supposed to protect Sam, not risk his life on an iced over road, maybe that's why Sam hated him.

'_Sorry to disappoint little brother. I've never been invincible'_

"You kill monsters Dean, you save people, they need you." He left Sam at home alone while he went off of his Dad's hunts. No, this wasn't his Dad's fault, he wanted to go, he wanted to kill things that go bump in the night and Sam suffered. Maybe that's why Sam hated him.

'_Nobody needs me. You certainly don't. I failed you Sammy, I'm sorry.' _

"I need you Dean. I need you to protect me, to take care me, I need you to pick on me, I just need you."

'_No you don't Sam. I failed you, you hate me.'_

"I'm so sorry for what I said Dean. I didn't mean it."

'_Yes you did, at least then, but that's okay I don't blame you.' _

"I love you."

'_You can love and hate someone at the same time. I certainly have.'_

"Please wake up."

'_I'm trying'_

"You're a superhero…"

'_I'm no hero'_

"Or at least you are to me."

'_You really mean that Sammy?'_

"Sometimes I get mad but I could never hate you, not really, just sometimes I get caught up in how you are supposed to be this hero, this superhero, and I forget you're a person to. You're my big brother, I've been following you around since I was 4, wanting to be just like you, and sometimes I just expect you to be perfect. But I don't want you be perfect anymore Dean, I just want you to be you, I want you to be my brother. I want you to wake up."

'_You don't hate me?'_

"I don't hate you."

With a renewed vigor, Dean fought with his eyelids. He as his brother's hero, he couldn't let him down. _'Open your eyes! Open up!'_

"Please Deanie."

"Sammy." And Dean Winchester opened his eyes.


	12. Chapter 12

_To you I'm Sam_

_ Samantha when you need to be strong_

_ Sasquatch when you need to feel power_

_ Bitch when you need something familiar_

_Sammy when you need to be my big brother_

_To me you're Dean_

_ You've never needed to be anything else_

"I'm sorry for what I said." Sam repeated for the millionth time. He scooted the plastic hospital chair closer to his brother's bed and leaned close, hands wringing each other cheek working between his teeth in a nervous habit, "I didn't mean it Dean."

"You've said that Samantha, just let it go." Dean groaned rolling his eyes and trying to pull himself up higher on the bed.

"Here let me help!" Sam exclaimed gripping Dean's biceps and attempting to tug him upward but Dean batted his hands away.

"Get your hands off me bitch, I can sit up on my own!" Dean bit back, wincing as Sam extracted his grip and Dean slid back down the pillows.

"Dean you have been in a coma and your insides are being held together by freaking staples, just let me help you." Sam forced out through gritted teeth, reaching out with grabby hands again.

"Sasquatch get your sweaty hands away from me!" Dean tried shoving back but only succeeded in pulling at his injuries and falling deeper into the pillows.

"Dean just let me help…" Sam clasped Dean's torso and lifted him closer but Dean just struggled harder.

"I don't need you help…" Dean let out in a harsh breath, pain evident in his features as he jerked harder in his attempt to get away from his brother's grasp.

"But I need to help!" There was a sudden silence. The two brothers stared at each other for a moment, Dean unblinking and resigned and Sam letting water pool on his bottom lids before Sam let out a pitiful, "Please let me help."

Dean sat there for a moment, awkwardly sunken into his pillows before he cleared his throat. Gingerly he extended his arms and looked straight in to his little brother's eyes, "Would you mind helping me to sit up?"

Sam gave a sad smile and carefully slid his brother up on the bed until he was fully sitting. Dean pulled his arms back and kept his face neutral, attempting to keep his brother from further embarrassment. Sam sat back down, flipping his hair out of his eyes every few seconds. Dean glanced down to his hospital gown and to the monitors around him, wincing at the worry he is sure his brother went through. And the guilt.

"Mind getting me some water Sammy?" Dean questioned, keeping his eyes low. Sam gave a huge grin and jumped up from his seat, barely giving notice to the squeak the plastic chair gave as it slid back against the tile.

"Sure thing Dean!" He called over his shoulder.

Dean watched him go. He gave a wincing smile as his brother moved clumsily down the hallway at a gangly gallop. A small groan escaped his lips as he struggled to get comfortable on the thin mattress of the hospital bed and scrunched his nose as his hospital gown rode up uncomfortably.

"Hey bud, how are you doing?" Dean's head jerked up to see his father standing in the doorway.

"I'm just peachy." He claimed cheekily, stilling his movements and forcing a grin on his lips.

"Now why don't I believe that?" His father questioned back, sauntering over beside his son and dropping into the seat beside him. "Listen I just wanted to say…."

"I know! I know I'm so sorry dad, I should have been watching the road, I mean Sam could have been hurt. You must be so pissed…" Dean pleaded, cutting off his father mid-sentence.

"That's not what I was going to say Dean." His eldest gave a questioning look, crinkling his brows together and tilting his head in a way that made his look so young it made John's heart ache. "I just wanted to tell you that I'm sorry. That I should have been there and I shouldn't have gotten angry with you on the phone. Dean the thought that you could have…. That you almost…. That I almost lost you…. It nearly killed me Dean."

"Dad I…"

"No, just let me finish. I'm not mad or angry with you but, please Dean just be more careful. I know I don't say it nearly enough but I need you. Not just as a hunting partner or back up, I need you as a son. You are my boy, kiddo. I can't lose you. So just promise me you will be more careful."

"I promise Dad."

"Good." John stated clearing out his throat and blinking his eyes dry, "Now how about you get some rest?"

"Yeah, sounds good." Dean didn't want to sleep. He had been asleep for days, but he couldn't deny his father, not now, so he closed his eyes to appease him. He felt a soft touch of cracked lips on his forehead and a calloused hand run though his hair after a few minutes, and before he knew it he had drifted off into sleep.


	13. Chapter 13

"We have to leave." John's gravelly voice drifted into his consciousness as Dean began to wake. He could hear shuffling, could practically picture his brother tensing up and pursing his face as he prepared to argue with their dad.

"Dean isn't healed yet, he has to stay in the hospital." More shuffling, the squeak of sneakers, that was probably Sam turning and heading back to the bed. Discussion over, right? Wrong.

"I know that Sam but they are getting real close to discovering our fake insurance and we need to be long gone when that happens." The grate of chair on tile, unzipping of a bag…

Sam's voice was closer when he spoke next, right over Dean's head, like he was hovering protectively. "But Dad he…"

"I know Sam, I know, and I wish it was different. Now help me rouse your brother while I go get the discharge papers." The thud of boots on tile, the swing of the door…

"Is there no other way? I mean what if something goes wrong? Dean needs to be in a hospital with doctors and meds and…"

"Sam. This is not up for discussion. Just trust me to do what's best. We will go to Bobby's and look after Dean there; we aren't leaving him on his own." More footsteps, the click of the door closing, then suddenly hands were on his shoulders.

"Dean. Dean. Hey big bro you got to wake up now." Dean blinked open his eyes. Staring blearily into his younger brother's face for a couple of seconds before the world cleared. He glanced to his left and could see his open duffle bag sitting on the chair, clothes peeking out.

"We leaving?" Dean's voice was rough with sleep and he gave a gruff cough to try and clear up his throat.

"Yeah, insurance." Dean nodded and began to push up, wincing at the pull on his injuries. Sam gave him a worried look.

"You feeling okay? You're still pretty black and blue."

"Fine Sammy, just ready to get out of this prison." Dean stifled a groan as he up righted himself fully. He was far from fine, he wanted to lie in the hospital bed for a week pumped full of pain meds, but there was no way he was telling his brother that. "Mind handing me my clothes?"

Sam pivoted and grabbed a pair of worn jeans and a Metallica shirt, handing them over to his brother. Dean stared at him for a second after taking the clothes, giving him an expectant look. "Well turn around Sammy, unless you want a free peep show in which case…"

"Gross! No Dean shut up!" Sam gasped flushing bright pink and quickly turning around and hiding in his hair. Dean chuckled before beginning the painful process of dressing. He bit into his lip as fire burned through his abdomen while he bent over to tug his jeans upward. His ribs groaned as he reached back to untie his hospital gown and let it pool onto the floor. He almost released a cry of agony as he yanked his shirt over his head but he swallowed it down, letting tears well in his eyes.

"You boys ready to go?" John's voice drifted in from the door way. Dean twisted around, grimacing at the quick movement before nodding and heading towards his father. Sam snatched up the duffle bag, zipping it as he walked toward the door, a look of apprehension on his face. "Well then let's head out."

"Dad I still…"

"Sam." John warned, not bothering to turn around. "Dean sit down in the wheelchair so we can get you out of here."

Dean dropped heavily into the chair and leaned back, trying to ease the pressure on his middle. John gave a nervous look at the lack of protest from his eldest before beginning to wheel his towards the exit. "Mr. Winchester!"

John swiveled to see Dean's primary doctor coming his way, "Mr. Winchester I really must advice against Dean leaving the hospital. After all he just awoke from a coma a couple of days ago and his internal injuries are far from healed. It is an unnecessary risk from him to be checked out at this time."

"Listen Doc, I appreciate your concern but we are going to an old buddy of mine, a doctor, and Dean will be in good hands."

"I see." The man replied, crinkling his already slightly wrinkled face and rubbing at his greying temples. John gave a strained smile before turning back to his boys and walking briskly to the exit.

Sam leaned up and whispered, "I didn't know Bobby was doctor."

"Well he's just as good." Sam pursed his lips but refrained from comment. Dean leaned back, a scowl gracing his lips as his wheelchair was put in park by a Volkswagen.

"What the hell is this?"

"It's our ride." John answered back opening the passenger door and attempting to lift Dean from the chair but one look from Dean had him backing away with his hands raised.

"That is not our ride, that is the ride of a middle aged man who is asking 'what have I done with my life'." Dean retorted pushing up from his seated position and flopping into the passenger seat, "Oh god there is an air freshener on the rearview mirror!"

John chuckled, walking around to the driver door and climbing in. "Let's get rolling."


	14. Chapter 14

Nobody talked once they were driving; the only sound was the friction of the tires on pavement and the occasional clunk of a pebble hitting the underside of the car. It had gone dark hours ago and the moon was deep set inside the clouds so the only light was the headlights bouncing a shine back into the car to ghost over the occupants. Sam was sprawled out in the backseat, jacket tucked under his head and legs bent oddly up against the door frame. John glanced sideways to Dean who was sleeping soundly, leaning in the crevice between the door and seat. A slight crease of pain worked its way over his forehead, the only sign that he wasn't completely comfortable. His jaw was gaped slightly and a spot of drool was beginning to form in the corner of his lips. He looked so young.

John looked back to the road, dark eyes cataloging his surroundings; it was only about half an hour more to Bobby's. Sam gave a huff, pulling his long legs into a fetal position and cracking his eyes open. He peaked at his brother for a moment before drifting back to sleep.

Dean began to shift, face scrunching up and mouth tensing into a line, he moaned softly. His head jerked a bit toward John, the dim glow of the headlights leaving his face shadowed. He jerked again and John reached out, nudging his shoulder gently, "Dean, Dean-o you alright?"

Dean shot up, eyes wild and rolling, pure adrenaline pumping through his veins, "Yeah fine, just a dream."

He crumpled back into the seat wincing, John gave him a dubious look, "Didn't seem like just a dream."

Dean didn't reply, just continued to stare out the window. John's voice startled him out of his thought, "Was it about the crash?"

"It was like I was there again. I could hear the squeal of the tires; feel the wheel slip through my fingers." Dean stuttered, never removing his eyes from the tree line.

"It's not your fault…"

"Don't say that. Don't try and make me feel better about this, I should have seen the ice. I should have swerved or…or something. Sam could have died." The last words were bitter and broken, his voice cracking with emotion.

"You could have died." John's words were harsh, croaking, 'You almost did.'

"But it's my own fault…"

"No! No Dean, it wasn't. There was black ice that you couldn't have seen."

"I was distracted."

"I know you Dean; you always pay attention to the road…"

"Sam said he hated me." John's mouth snapped closed. Dean breathed in deep, schooling his features into a blank slate, "He said he hated me and I… I let my emotions get the better of me. I wasn't paying attention and I crashed the Impala. It was my fault."

They sat in silence for a moment, both averting their eyes and staring out onto the rolling pavement. John kept his face forward, tone calm and questioning, "Would you ever put your brother in danger on purpose?"

"What?! No! Of course not!"

"Not for any reason?"

"Never!"

"Even if he hated you?"

"I'd never let Sammy get hurt if I could stop it!"

"Then it wasn't your fault. If there was any way you could have stopped it, any way at all, you would have, but there was nothing you could do Dean." Dean smoothed his features and stared forward again, giving a curt nod. "Sometimes there is nothing you can do kiddo."

"Yes sir." His voice was small but sure, John gave him a tight grin before staring back to the path ahead. They sat in comfortable silence, tension leaking from the air.

"So Sammy really said he hated you?"

"Yeah, but he didn't mean it. He even said he was sorry. Actually it was getting annoying how often he said sorry. He kept fluffing my pillows and getting me water, I was afraid soon he would be asking to give me a sponge bath."

John chuckled, leaning back into the leather seat and letting his stress melt away. He saw Bobby's house coming up and swerved around a beat up Chevy and hoodless Toyota to park in front of the house. He strained his arm over the seat and shook Sam's shoulder, "Up and at 'em Sammy."

"I'm up…" Came back the slurred reply. Dean chuckled and opened up the passenger door, only grunting slightly as he levered himself out of the car. Dean opened up the back door and Sam clambered out with bleary eyes.

"Sure you are drool boy."

"Shut up Dean." Sam quipped back throwing his arm back playfully, hitting Dean in the abdomen before realization sparked through his sleep dredged mind. Dean hunched over, breathing heavily through his nose, "I'm so sorry Dean I just forgot for a second, God I'm sorry…"

"It's fine Sammy, forget about it."

"But Dean…"

"Seriously drop it." Dean snapped, limping towards Bobby's front door. Bobby took his arm as he attempted the steps gruff voice trying to soothe him as he pulled back and brushed by. "I'm tired of everyone babying me."

Sam walked up the steps with his head hung low, Bobby giving him a pat to the back but not knowing what to say. John came up the rear with two duffels slung over his shoulders, "Sam get your bag from the trunk."

"Yes sir." He sulked, keeping his bangs flopped over his eyes. Bobby took a bag off John's shoulder and swung his arm out in welcome.

"So John, how's our boy doing?"

"He's tough."

"That's not really an answer."

"It's all I got."


	15. Chapter 15

**Authors Note: I'm so sorry it has been so long since I posted (and yes I know I apologize for that a lot) I have just had such a busy summer! Plus, in all honesty, I lost a bit of my muse and couldn't really decide what I wanted to happen next. But after a lovely review from one of my readers I knew I really needed to just take the time to figure it out and write because I owed it to all of my followers and reviewers. So I hope that everyone who reviews or just reads my stories knows that it means a lot to me and I really hope that you enjoy how the story is continuing. And to the lovely reviewer ( I hope you know who you are) I'm far from done writing. Love, supernaturalloverja**

Dean reclined back on the couch, scuffed boots propped up on the coffee table and head thrown back on the threadbare cushions. A constant mantra of 'suck it up Dean' rolled through his brain as he clenched his fists, nails biting into the meat of his palm, trying to focus on something other than the fire burning in his guts. He rolled his head to the side as he heard his brother's voice murmur from the kitchen.

"We shouldn't have left the hospital." Sam scolded voice low as if he was trying to keep Dean from hearing. Well stellar job on that.

"Sam we didn't have a choice." John growled, exhaustion coating his tone. Dean could see their shadows in the lit doorway. John's back was turned to his youngest and his shoulders hunched in resignation. Sam stepped closer, raised up on his tiptoes so that he stood only a couple inches shorter than their Dad.

"Of course there was a choice!" Sam snapped, voice rising for a moment before he remembered himself, "of course there was a choice, you could have used actual insurance…"

"I'm not having this argument again." Dean could hear the scuff of his father's boots, like he was trying to move away but right behind that was the squeak of sneakers.

"He needs a hospital Dad." John's shadow stilled, Dean could almost feel the tension from his spot on the couch.

"We can take care of him, he is all stitched up and now he just needs to heal." His father' shadow moved out of the doorway, giving the impression of 'conversation over'.

"You always do this! Dean isn't invincible, he isn't a toy soldier! He is my brother…" Sam trailed off, his lanky shadow moving right alongside his father.

"And he is my son!" Their voices were steadily rising and soon a headache was building up behind Dean's eyes. Why couldn't they just get along? "If staying in the hospital was an option then we would have but it wasn't Sam. Drop it!"

"I'm not going to just drop it! Why can't we take him to another hospital?"

"Do you really think shuffling him around is the best option? Just trust me Samuel, I know what's best…"

"No you don't!" Sam bellowed, a steady pant escaping his lips, "You don't."

"Sam." Dean levered himself upward and shuffled towards the front door, hands braced on his abdomen. He just wanted out of here before the fallout. He stifled a groan as he pulled the door open, biting into his bottom lip as he struggled outside. He could hear the drill sergeant in his father's voice inside, and carefully made it down the front porch steps.

"Where you goin' boy?" Dean jumped, groaning loud and deep as it jostled his injuries. He turned slowly to see Bobby sitting in a beat up chair and nursing a beer.

"Out." Bobby nodded, chuckling under his breath.

"You don't look like you're going to make it very far."

Dean nodded glumly, ducking his head low to shadow the grimace on his face, "Sammy and dad are fighting."

"I know, pretty sure my neighbors a couple miles away can hear them," Bobby half joked, "idjits."

"Seems like they're always fighting." Dean muttered, half falling and half lowering himself to the rickety steps. "Well, when dad is even home."

"It's not your fault Dean." Bobby relied calmly, staring out into the car yard. Dean looked up at him with big green eyes, bottom lip snagged between his teeth. He looked so torn, ripped between the brother he was supposed to protect and the father he was so supposed to obey, that poor boy.

"Sure feels like it." His voice was quiet and shaky. He parted his lips, his mouth gaping like he wanted to say something, but before a word escaped he snapped it closed. A particularly loud yell echoed through the house and Dean winced, pulling himself up on the banister. "I'm going for a walk."

"You sure that's a good idea Dean-o?" He questioned, knowing it wasn't likely he would get an answer out of the stubborn teen. Dean gave him a tight lipped smirk and started across the dusty yard. He made it to the edge of the cars before he swayed precariously on his feet. He stalled for a moment and Bobby tensed up as Dean turned towards him. Bobby clambered to his feet and made his way across the yard faster than he knew possible.

"Think I'm… I'm gonna…" With that as the only warning Dean retched violently, thick strands of blood and bile escaping his mouth. Bobby grabbed hold of his upper body so he wanted fall forward into the mess. Dean caught his breath and turned bleary green eyes up to Bobby, blood coating his lips and down his chin.

"Maybe I shouldn't go for that walk." Then Dean's eyes rolled back in his head and he went limp in Bobby's arms.


	16. Chapter 16

_Dean cracked open his eyes to blue skies. The kind of sky you painted on walls and in murals, with just the right number of cottony clouds, and not a single wisp of smoke or pollution. As the world came into focus Dean began to realize what was missing. Pain. He could feel no pain. His only sensation was a soft wind tracing over his flesh. Dean rubbed the pads of his fingers to the ground, expecting the scrape of car yard dirt, but instead wisps of delicate grass tickled his palms. Where was he? Dean gingerly raised his shoulders and began to sit up, ready for ripping agony in his guts, but instead there wasn't even a pull on his abdomen. Dean glanced around, craning his neck to all sides and seeing only green grass and blue skies._

"_Bobby?" He called through a rough throat. Where was that grizzly hunter? _

"_Bobby isn't here baby." Dean jumped at the sudden voice behind him. He jerked around coming face to face with a woman. Gold hair flowed down over her shoulders and cascaded down her back, big blue eyes blinked at him, crows feet just beginning at the corners. She gave him a wide smile through pink lips and lifted one hand from her lap to stroke Dean's cheek. He leaned into the touch greadily, closing his eyes and breathing her in deep._

"_Mom…" She scooted closer, pulling her eldest into a bear hug. She wrapped her thin arms around his broad shoulders and pulled his head to where her neck met her shoulder. Hot tears dripped down her collar bone, and a small hitch worked its way into Dean's breathing._

"_I'm here baby." Dean pulled away after a moment, watery eyes taking in the sight before him. He tugged his bottom lip between his teeth, contemplating his next question. _

"_Am I dead?" Mary looked at him kindly, smiling softly._

"_No baby." Dean nodded slowly, confusion tugging his brows together._

"_Then what's going on? Where am I? How are you here? I mean I'm not complaining but I just…" Mary hushed him softly, chuckling under her breathe as her son began to babble. She tugged his head back down to her shoulder and threaded her fingers into the soft hair at the nape of her neck._

"_You're here because you need some guidance, I'm here to give it to you." Dean tightened his hold, his arms snaked around her mother's trim waist. "You have a choice Dean."_

"_What are the options?" Dean murmured into her neck, not quite ready to pull back from the protective embrace._

"_You can give up, or you can fight." She answered gently, rubbing a hand down his back and along his spine._

"_You mean I can live or die?" Dean spat back a bit harshly. He regretted the tone but Mary didn't seem to notice, she just set her chin a top his head and nodded. "Is it bad that I don't have an answer?"_

_Mary pulled back, untangling her son from her grip and looking him in the eye. "I know. I know what you have been though, all of it, and I know it isn't coming to an end anytime soon if you choose to go back. So no, it is not 'bad' that you don't have an answer. Of course I am biased, you are my baby boy, but this is your choice sweet heart. I'll help you to decide, give you any guidance I can, but in the end you decide."_

_Dean nodded, breathe catching in his chest. "Mama I don't know what to do." A choked sob escaped his throat and he dived back into her embrace. He let tears drip down and soak into his mother's white gown. "I don't know if I can take anymore. I try mom, I try so hard, but nothing ever seems to go right._

_I do everything I can for Sammy. I help him with his homework, I make his dinner, I try to protect him, but I always seem to mess it up. I know he said he doesn't really hate me, but it's only a matter of time. How many more screw ups can I commit before he really does hate me."_

"_Now you look at me Dean." His mother snapped, raising his head to be eye level, eyes ablaze, "You are not a screw up. You are amazing. I am so sorry for all that has been placed on your shoulders, and I know that you see that your father is doing his best, but it isn't fair. It isn't fair that you are a mother, father, and brother to Sam, it isn't fair that you have had to not only take care of yourself since the age of four but also a little brother. But even through all of that you never complain, you take it in stride, and you do an amazing job. Don't you see that your brother idolizes you? You are Sam's hero, and you always will be."_

"_You really think that?" Dean questioned sniffling back his emotions._

"_I really mean that." Dean nodded, swallowing down his feelings and wiping away a trail of tears._

"_It's not just taking care of Sam though, It's patching Dad up, it's being a good little soldier, its listening to the two people I love most tear each other apart and then leaving me to pick up the pieces. I mean, maybe they would get along better if I was gone."_

"_Dean Winchester don't you ever think that!" Mary scolded, wincing at the resentment she could see etched in her son's face. The most painful thing for Mary being that it was resentment for himself. _

"_Why wouldn't I think that?! I'm who they are always arguing about!" _

"_Now you listen to me and you listen good. Your brother and father are too alike for their own good. They will always find something to fight about, if it's not you then it will be something else. You are not the problem, you are the only thing that keeps this family together. And it isn't right, and I don't blame you for wanting out but I will not let you think that you are the problem." They sat in silence for a couple of moments, staring at each other and soaking in the words. _

"_I miss you Mom." Dean finally broke the silence. Tone broken and raw, "I miss your presence and your calm, I miss your voice telling me angels are watching over me, I need that right now. How am I supposed to go back to a life without it?"_

"_I miss you too baby, and I wish I didn't have to leave you, but you aren't alone. Your father loves you more than anything, I know he has strange way of showing it but it's true. And Sam, well you are Sam's world."_

"_I know they need me, I know, but I can't help but think about what is going to happen in the future. If I go back , how do I know I won't just get ripped to shreds by a werewolf next week? Or have my neck snapped by a poltergeist? Or what if I don't get hurt? What if it's Sammy? I don't think could survive if something happened to… if he…."_

"_Baby that's life." The world was beginning to fade around the edges. The grass bleeding its color and beginning to blend into the blue above. The wind stopped suddenly, leaving the startling sensation of nothing. "We've run out of time, you have to choose baby."_

"_What?! I'm not ready! I'm not ready for you to leave." Dean clung to his mother, arms wrapped tightly around her and face buried in her blond waves. Mary pulled him close, tears standing in her eyes as she let her son go for the second time. _

"_Maybe this will help you decide." Mary repositioned her son so that he was lying with his back on the grass and his face up to the sky. She hovered over him, hands stoking his cheeks and hair. "Maybe things aren't meant to last forever. We live, then we die. And what we do in the middle, that's what makes us who we are."_

_Dean nodded and Mary released her hold, "close your eyes baby."_

_Dean complied and felt a sudden stillness. Who was he? He was Dean Winchester._


End file.
